


proprioception

by killyourdarlings (fluxwire)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Bodyswap, Canon Compliant, M/M, Witchcraft, magical elements at play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-07 08:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16850821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluxwire/pseuds/killyourdarlings
Summary: Donghyuck and Mark are put in each other's shoes. Literally.(alternatively, a markhyuck body swap fic that got out of hand)





	proprioception

**Author's Note:**

> **!!!** if you first read this when it was first posted, it's probably been edited quite a bit since then
> 
> — rated T for swearing and One (1) slightly sexual joke.  
> — inspired by the multiple times markhyuck have said they want to switch bodies with each other for a day.  
> — i've been trying to write this since march 2017 which is why it's set then. this, however, doesnt coincide with the infamous markhyuck fight of summer 2017.  
> — there are some side ships if you squint but they're not explored enough for me to tag them.

Among the members, Donghyuck is known for a lot of things—girl group dance master, moodmaking maknae, and more commonly, 127 dorm's ridiculously late riser. It's routinely—Donghyuck burying himself further into his sheets, asking for five, ten minutes more while everyone else finished up getting ready for the day.

So when he wakes up at 7:30 in the morning, a good two hours from when he needs to wake up, he immediately feels  _off_ —like the world has just been tipped off its axis and made to rotate the other way around.

He pads to the bathroom with eyes barely open throughout the short walk, and blindly reaches for the sink faucet. He struggles to open his eyes, vision blurry from sleep still lingering in his system so he cups his hands underneath the stream of free-flowing water and splashes his face with it.

 _Fuck,_ is his first thought. He’s barefoot and the cold bites him from within, making him shiver as he presses his palms against his eye sockets, dragging his hands down his face miserably.  _Waking up before 10 am should be illegal,_ he thinks as he grasps for a towel to dry his face with. He can feel droplets fall from the tips of his hair and he mindlessly runs a hand through it. He furrows his brows. It’s tangled, horribly so. Since when was his hair this frizzy and… blonde?

He looks up, wide eyes growing impossibly wider as he’s greeted by Mark’s face where his own reflection should be. Seagull brows raised, small mouth slightly agape. Frustrated and confused, he runs his fingers through his hair again, or rather he runs Mark’s knobby fingers through Mark’s incredibly damaged, bleached blonde hair which he now wears on his own head. Or is it Mark’s head which his consciousness is in? He furrows his eyebrows and curiously inspects the motion play out through Mark’s features on the mirror’s reflection before him.

Donghyuck doesn’t scream. On any other day, he might’ve, would’ve called Doyoung or Taeyong hyung for help with a high pitched squeal. His hands feel clammy as he grips the edge of the sink and for a second, he considers it—squealing like a five year old in Mark’s body.

The second doesn’t last—the thought chased away by the sound of his own voice screaming his own name from their bedroom.

\--

“What are we going to do, Hyuck?”

Mark’s pacing the room—has been for the past ten minutes since he was hit with the reality of their situation. His sweaty hands are clutching the fabric of his gym shorts nervously (which Donghyuck makes a mental note to throw into the wash right after). His pupils blown, lower lip swollen from biting down on it. Donghyuck tries very hard to not think about Mark biting down on his own lip, and instead focuses on the shifting in his gut, the nausea this sight is inducing.

Not that he’s never seen Mark in a state of panic before. He’s nursed Mark out of his panicked state countless times, enough for Mark to always seek him out first in moments like this. But this—watching your own body move independent of his own thoughts, seeing yourself have a panic attack through someone else’s eyes—is much too jarring, even for a gemini like him.

“Would you sit the fuck down?” Donghyuck finally asks, dizzy from watching Mark. Mark doesn’t chastise him for cursing and sinks into the space beside him, making the mattress dip with his weight. There's static from the way Mark’s arm brushes against his own that has Donghyuck flinching away from the sensation. Donghyuck rubs his arm as he speaks, “I can’t think with your nervous energy polluting my thinking space.”

If Mark felt the spark, he doesn’t let it show, just continues shaking his leg, bed frame shaking along with it. It makes Donghyuck’s hands itch with the urge to stop him with a firm grip on his thigh. He pointedly ignores it and instead busies his hands by fishing Mark’s phone from his pocket and starting up the calendar app to go through his schedule for the week.

(In hindsight, Donghyuck probably should’ve realized it as soon as he woke up. The calendar app looks like a UI nightmare and any normal iPhone user would notice that they’re using an android phone immediately, disoriented in another person's body or not.)

“I have a performance in five days,” Mark leans in and points out the date on the screen, hot breath warming up the exposed skin along Hyuck's shoulder—the proximity startles Hyuck, making his breath hitch for half a beat, but the heat is gone as soon as it came, with Mark flopping back down on the mattress to look up at the ceiling defeatedly. His bed hair is still intact, spikes of hair sticking out awkwardly in conflicting directions. He’s  _pouting_ and Donghyuck is pretty sure he doesn’t know he’s doing it. (Maybe his body still has a mind of its own, Donghyuck thinks, and he almost believes it, wants to believe that his body remains separate that of its host—of Mark’s control over it.)

Donghyuck stretches out a tentative hand, reaching for the top of Mark’s head to ruffle his hair. The Mark in Donghyuck’s body doesn’t shy away from the touch. His voice comes out soft when he speaks, “We’ll figure something out.”

\--

“Nice shirt, bro,” Jaehyun casually compliments him as they’re ushered into the car by their managers.

“Thanks, bro,” Donghyuck dishes out his best imitation of Mark’s bro accent to match, words feeling foreign as they roll off his tongue. He’d insisted on wearing his own shirt earlier today, against Mark’s protests of giving them away. Usually, he’d avoid wearing his nice shirts to practice, but seeing as he’s going to be stuck in Mark’s body for an indefinite while, the least he can do to make his situation bearable is to wear his own clothes.

“Told you,” he whispers as Mark settles into the seat beside him. There’s static again when their arms brush against each other—stronger this time, stinging and leaving him feeling faint.

“You felt that?” Mark asks, voice barely a whisper, faint enough for Donghyuck to mistake it for a voice in his head. Maybe it is, but Donghyuck nods anyway, rubbing his arm where the sensation lingers still.

\--

The first member to catch on is Taeil, or Doyoung. They’re not really sure because the two sat them down to talk about it together.

“How did you know?” Mark asks, hushed voice echoing in the empty practice room.

Taeil smiles, slowly. “We’re all connected, you know,” he says in that voice that Mark thinks he doesn’t realize is equal parts creepy and cool.

“Donghyuck kept responding whenever I called for Mark,” Doyoung supplies less than half a beat later. There’s palpable concern in the way he purses his lips, but he speaks with a look in his eyes that Donghyuck somehow recognizes as amusement.

Mark drags his hands across his face. “Hyung,” he whines out, and both Doyoung and Taeil instantly scoot closer to comfort him, rubbing circles onto his back. It’s an uncanny sight, seeing the older members give Donghyuck’s own body this much unadulterated attention. Not that they’re ever stingy about skinship with him, or that he’s ever been particularly jealous of the kind of attention they gave Mark. He knows he’s well liked by 127 members, though the fondness they’ve reserved for him has always been a more subtle, unspoken kind—a stark difference to the almost overbearing attention they give Mark.

It’s a difference Donghyuck appreciates too, because as much as he revels in the spotlight, he still likes his alone time—alone time which Mark never seems to have, considering how little Donghyuck has seen of him outside work these past few weeks. It's the longest Donghyuck's gone without teasing him incessantly. Not that he's counting.

“We should tell the others,” Doyoung says, reigning him back to the empty practice room. It’s not a suggestion, Donghyuck recognizes from the way Doyoung looks up to meet his eyes when he speaks.

“Okay,” Mark replies a little weakly. He looks a little frightened ( _he always manages to look a little frightened,_ his mind supplies. He ignores it.) so Donghyuck finally scoots closer to take Mark’s hand in his own as he nods in response.

\--

“Did you guys fight last night? Eat anything weird? Isn't that what happened in that movie?” Taeyong asks over dinner, after their dilemma’s been shared to the rest of a group and become an open secret among them. “What’s it called again?”

“Freaky Friday,” Johnny supplies even through a mouthful of rice.

Mark stops chewing his food, then grimaces as he swallows prematurely before speaking, “I’m pretty sure we all ate the same thing for dinner yesterday.” Donghyuck catches himself staring at the way Mark’s movements remain unmistakably him even when transposed onto his body. Donghyuck could probably sniff him out even if his soul was trapped in a stranger's body. Mark sneaks a glance at Donghyuck, who hurriedly and uncharacteristically looks away when Mark meets his gaze and raises a brow at him. He narrows his eyes questioningly, but he continues, “and we haven’t even fought in weeks.”

“Then maybe you need to fight it out,” Yuta, ever the wise one, suggests.

“Or maybe you gotta kiss like in those Disney movies,” Jaehyun helpfully chimes in.

Donghyuck groans internally. Trust his hyungs to make an already difficult situation even more unbearable. If looking at himself through Mark’s eyes was unsettling before, it’s impossible now that he knows Mark can definitely see the flush creeping up his neck to the tips of his ears. He can swear he hears Renjun calling him out for being a huge virgin.

“It might actually work, you know. You’re already in a pretty unrealistic situation, anyway," Johnny offers sincerely, trying his very best to help. Donghyuck resists the urge to tell him it’s counterproductive.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Taeyong cuts, attempting to seem in control of the situation, and then, “I might know someone who can help, but it might take a few days.”

Everyone but Taeil looks at him questioningly. Even Winwin looks mildly surprised.

“You know, even with all the freaky shit you’re into, I somehow still did not expect this one,” Doyoung cuts in, corners of his lips curling up just so.

Taeyong spares Doyoung a pointed look, visibly flustered (which—while always an amusing sight—right now is more of a relief to Donghyuck who’s finally starting to feel his own cheeks calm down) before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and soldiering on, “It might take a few days. In the meantime, don’t do anything or you might just make things worse.”

Donghyuck fails to see how much worse this whole thing could possibly get, but that doesn’t mean he’s willing to take his chances so he nods and licks at the honey chicken sauce coating his fingertips in silence.

\--

“You know what—maybe we  _should_ kiss,” Donghyuck suggests jokingly, throwing his head back as a sign of defeat. They’re sitting on Mark’s bed, looking out the window of their room. It's almost midnight and they really should be asleep because Real Mark has practice with Seulgi noona tomorrow, and Donghyuck swears Mark’s anxiety is contagious.

There’s no response for a while and Donghyuck almost forgets he even asked the question, assumes Mark hadn’t heard it, or that he’s pretending to not have heard it—until he hears a faint, mumbled response from beside him.

“What?” He has to ask, straightening himself up to look at Mark.

“Let’s do it,” Mark says, voice sounding obnoxiously loud to his own ears.

Donghyuck stares at him, trying to make out his face in the absence of light and failing. Donghyuck huffs in disbelief—he’d only really asked because he knew Mark would vehemently say no, but of course Mark has to catch him off guard  _now_ of all times.

The thing is they’ve been here before—inadvertently confronted by the reality of this thing between them that remains unspoken, unaddressed. And Donghyuck’s aware no matter how many times he turns away from it, they’ll always end up back here—in their way too silent dorm room, on the same bed, awake and aware of each other at times way past their bedtime—but that doesn’t stop Donghyuck from choosing to prolong his agony again anyway.

So Donghyuck snorts, “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that—” A beat to compose himself, keep his voice from giving him away. “You haven't even had your first kiss yet.”

(That’s a lie. Donghyuck remembers Mark's first kiss. It was just after they'd all moved into a new dorm, before 127 was announced. They were all tense and tired from practicing the new choreo till dawn nearly every day for two weeks, but Mark had been excused that night. He'd been slacking off on a major group project and his groupmates demanded a whole day of his time to make up for it. He came back past midnight then, touching his lips with a giddy grin on his face as he kept responding to kakao talk messages until late. Mark never told him about it, but he didn't have to. Mark has always been painfully easy to read for Donghyuck.)

“It’s not like it’ll work, anyway,” he keep his tone light and playful, masks all his inhibitions with a smile that Mark won’t even see in this darkness. “Didn’t you watch the movies? It only works if it’s a true love’s kiss. Whatever that is.”

There are two little voices in Donghyuck’s brain that will egg him on incessantly about this later on. One that will annoy him about how he should’ve just let Mark peck him and get it over with, and another that will remind him it’s better this way—that he doesn’t  _know_ that Mark doesn’t like him like that, or worse—that he actually does.

\--

Seulgi noona eyes them curiously when she enters the dance studio and finds Mark practicing their performance with Donghyuck. She doesn’t say anything about Donghyuck sticking around for the first half hour of their practice session until he leaves mumbling  _I’ll see you at the dorm_ as he ducks out of the practice room.

They practice in relative silence until she tosses him a half-empty water bottle after memorizing the entire choreo sequence, then points out the elephant in the room. “What’s up with you and Haechan?”

The Donghyuck in Mark’s body flinches. “What do you mean by that, noona?”

Seulgi shrugs, all nonchalant. She’s curious, not nosy. “I mean, you guys are always together but he’s never really stuck around like that whenever we met to prepare for this performance.”

Realistically speaking, Seulgi noona has no way of knowing what exactly is going on with them, which gives Donghyuck more reason to not tell her. But the irrational part of Donghyuck—the part that thinks Seulgi is exactly the person to talk to about this because she’s an uninvolved party Donghyuck only interacts with once or twice a year during joint vlive broadcasts and SMTown concerts—wins him over so he sinks to the floor against the floor to ceiling mirror and asks her if she can keep a secret.

-

“So, let me get this straight,” Seulgi says, nose scrunched up in confusion. “You’re telling me that the person I’m talking to right now is actually Haechan in Mark’s body?”

Donghyuck nods.

“And this isn't a prank? Like, you're sure I won’t find Yeri behind one of those locker doors or something?”

“Mark wouldn’t be in on it if Yeri and I were really just pranking you, noona.”

Seulgi pauses to process Donghyuck’s perfectly logical counter, then shakes her head in confusion. “I really thought you two just liked each other so much. It seemed like you were going through a honeymoon phase or something.”

“What?” Donghyuck blurts.

“Am I wrong?” Seulgi’s looking at him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “About you two liking each other, I mean.”

Donghyuck opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it. Seulgi takes his silence for an answer.

-

Donghyuck wakes up to Taeyong and Doyoung shaking him and Mark awake at five in the morning. He’s barely given time to be shocked that he’s still stuck in Mark’s body for a third day in a row because the hyungs are already dragging him out of bed and throwing him into cold water of the shower still fully clothed to wake him up in the most inhumanely way possible.

“We don’t even have a schedule this morning. Do we  _have_ to do this today?” Donghyuck complains later in the cab. It’s just the four of them. Taeyong ignores his whining in favour of giving directions to the driver, so Donghyuck turns to Doyoung who sits on his left and pouts. “Can’t you guys at least buy me Cinnabon? We didn’t even get to have breakfast.”

“Later, Haechanie,” Doyoung gives him an apologetic pat on his thigh.

Donghyuck deflates, sinking back down into the cab’s seat. His nose scrunches from the smell of cheap cigarettes clinging to the leather seats and he looks at Mark, who’s drowning in a black padded jacket, cheek mushed against the window of the car door while sleeping soundly. Donghyuck is both endeared and annoyed by his bliss.

\--

Sage attacks their senses as soon as they step into the apartment unit and discard their shoes by the door.

“Auntie,” Donghyuck hears Taeyong mutter as he steps beyond the beaded curtain separating the entryway from the rest of the residence. Donghyuck hears a woman hum back from somewhere in the house, and Taeyong signals for them to follow him.

As soon as they step beyond the curtain, Donghyuck feels a shift in the air, strong enough for him to need to grab a hold of Mark’s jacket to stop him in his tracks.

“Hyuck?” Mark asks, apprehensive. Donghyuck releases his grip on the fabric when he realizes how tightly he’s been clutching it. Mark looks at him curiously, worriedly. “You okay?”

 _No,_ he’s tempted to admit, but he's afraid it'll all spill out if he gives even just a little. So he lies. “Just a little nauseous from the car ride.”

Mark nods. It’s one of those nods he makes when he doesn’t really get it but still pretends like he does. He offers his arm and Donghyuck has an inexplicable urge to decline, so he waves a hand dismissively and pushes him forward with the other.

But barely a step and a half later has his hand coming up to reach for Mark’s jacket sleeve again. Mark’s tempted to tease him, but for the moment he lets Donghyuck get away with it, his own strides slowing so he can match Donghyuck’s languid pace.

Clutching Mark’s jacket sleeve like a lifeline as they walk in relative silence, Donghyuck’s mind finally comes down from the haze and he finally glosses over his surroundings, taking in the rest of the unit, which is surprisingly  _normal_. If it weren’t for the sage flooding the expanse and the strong pull he’s feeling deep within his gut, Donghyuck never would’ve guessed that this was some mystical lair of sorts. From the cream beige walls surrounding them, the impressionist paintings hung alongside family photos, to the lone island that serves as both kitchen countertop and dining area where a TV is perched—there’s nothing out of the ordinary about the place. It’s simple, modern, and above all: clean. So fucking clean it's creepy.

“It runs in the family,” a woman’s voice cuts through his thoughts. She’s standing behind the kitchen countertop, sipping on a cup. “The neat-freak gene, I mean. Tea?”

“Did you just read my mind?”

“No, dear. I guessed based on the look of disbelief on your face,” she explains as they approach her. She hands them all a cup each. “That and everyone I've ever invited to my home always comments the same thing."

Doyoung tries not to snort as he sniffs the beverage. “That’s one hell of a guess.”

She hides her smile behind the mug. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Uh,” Taeyong chimes in. “Meet my aunt, Aunt Taehee. She’s the help I mentioned the other day.”

She offers another smile, wider this time. “Nice to meet you all, Doyoung, Haechan, and Mark. Taeyong’s informed me all about your little dilemma.” She motions for them to take a seat by the island. “If I were you, I’d get comfy and drink that tea. You’ll need it.”

-

“Wait, so you mean to say… this was all Haechan’s doing?”

“A bit inaccurate, but that's one way to put it,” Taehee says, setting her tea cup back down on the kitchen countertop. Donghyuck remembers his own cup, and thinks maybe now is the time to take her advice about drinking it. She meets his gaze and smiles at him.  _Your maknae here is a witch_ , he recalls her saying. The shivers that travel down his spine has him reaching for the tea cup.

(It’s horrid, tasting much like week old socks and all Donghyuck can do is cross his fingers and hope her paranormal expertise is better than her tea.)

“Witches, simply put, are operators. We read energies and take advantage of them by redirecting them as we please. We have a variety of ways to achieve this. For something like body swapping, it’s usually a ritual.”

“How did Haechan perform a ritual without any of us knowing?” Doyoung pipes up, eyes narrowed at the witch. His tea has gotten cold, still untouched since he placed it back down after his first whiff.

“He didn’t,” Taehee says simply. “Rituals can be used to deliberately switch bodies with another person.” She looks at Donghyuck dead in the eye as she continues, “However, there are rare cases wherein untrained witches with unfiltered power, such as your little Haechan right here, can subconsciously shift the energies around them at opportune moments and cause magical accidents to occur. In his case, Venus stationing retrograde recently could’ve been the trigger.”

Donghyuck’s head is still spinning from all of this—the thick air weighing down on him like a storm cloud, the near chemical flavour of the tea lingering on his palate, and this whole witch revelation.  _Isn’t it a bit too late to announce he’s eligible for Hogwarts?_ He thinks as he feels Mark’s heavy gaze lock onto him amidst the commotion, like the sound of a gun cocking right at the back of his skull and  his thoughts run wild, desperate for a distraction from the sensation.

Taeyong sighs, worry palpable in his voice, “Are you sure about this, aunt Taehee?”

Taehee clucks her tongue at her own nephew’s inquiry. “Of course. Your little witch may have a lot of potential, but this isn’t the kind of ritual you can perform by reading a chant out loud off a dusty magic book hidden in your attic. Rituals like these take years of practice and weeks of preparation to be successfully performed by a fully realized witch. Haechanie over here didn’t even know he was a witch until today.”

“Okay, say we do believe you. Can you help them get back to normal?” Doyoung asks, leaning closer to the edge of his seat. The beginnings of a scowl creeps up on his features.

“Yes and no.”

Doyoung schools his scowl before it grows, speaking politely, even through the strain, “Would you care to elaborate on that?”

“I  _could_ force their souls back into their respective bodies, but the risks would be too great for me to do it without reservations.” She’s stirring her tea, talking mostly to herself, contemplating her options. “The most effective and safe way to reverse this is to give you a potion that will enhance your souls’ link and make it easier for your souls to flow back to their original hosts.”

"How long will that take?” Mark speaks up for the first time since they sat down, immediately drawing Donghyuck’s gaze to him. He’s still staring at Donghyuck, brows furrowed and corners of his mouth downturned into a frown, and there’s no time for Donghyuck to regret it when Mark’s gaze all but melts, sharp edges softening when their eyes meet. It undoes all the knots in his stomach and unravels a new kind of discomfort that blooms from his chest, turning his breath shallow. Donghyuck  _has_ to look away.

“Anywhere from three days to a week.”

“I don’t think we have that long,” Taeyong reasons.

Donghyuck can sense Taehee’s urge to roll her eyes at him—he would too if he were her. “I’ll have it ready by tomorrow then, but I’ll only be able to make one vial. They’ll have to share which won’t be as effective, so they need to stay close to each other to make the process easier.”

“They’re practically attached by the hip anyway,” Doyoung says, he’s rising from his seat, already preparing to take his leave. His hand falls on Taeyong’s shoulder, squeezing lightly to alert him.

Taeyong pats his hand in understanding. “We should probably go now, auntie. We don’t want to impose on your any further.”

“Before you leave, I’d like to borrow Haechan for a bit,” she’s flashing that smile again, and Donghyuck knows that rationally there’s nothing remotely frightening about it, but his gut flipping itself over in his core begs to differ. From the corner of his vision, he can see Mark shift in his seat, similarly bothered. Taehee waves a hand at them dismissively, “Oh, it won’t take long. You guys can wait in the hallway while we chat. “I’ll consider our conversation as payment for my services.”

“Alright,” Taeyong sighs and reluctantly moves to usher Doyoung and Mark to the door. “We’ll see you outside, Haechan.”

Donghyuck can see Mark looking over his shoulder once more, worry plastered all over his features.  _Stay safe,_ he mouths as he’s exits Donghyuck’s field of vision.

“Cute,” Taehee remarks from behind the kitchen countertop. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a pair of soulmates as young as you two.”

 _Soulmates,_ the word rings all over Donghyuck’s being long after it leaves her lips, shaking him, echoing like the remnants of a ceremonial gong being struck. He looks away, staring down at the fidgeting fingers in his lap. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Oh, goodness, no,” Taehee laughs and Donghyuck has to look up at her curiously. “I don’t like to meddle in teenage drama.” She walks away from the island, leaving Donghyuck alone as she makes a beeline for a dresser across the room. She makes haste as she rumages through a seemingly shallow drawer she just opened, digging her hand deeper into it to fish for something. There’s a black velvet string pouch in her hand when she retracts it and she speaks as she walks back to him, “It’s not everyday I get to meet an untrained witch, so I wanted to leave you with something to help you get by.”

Donghyuck reluctantly accepts the pouch, feeling around the fabric for its contents—a couple of pieces of rock-like objects sit at the bottom of the pouch, and a rectangular box takes up the rest of its space. He opens it just enough to peek into its contents. The box is embossed with golden moons and silver suns, and he lifts its tab to find a deck of cards inside.  _Oh_ , he thinks. “Tarot cards?”

“And some crystals to cleanse them with,” she adds. The perplexed look on Donghyuck’s face prompts her to explain further. “They’re not much, but Tarot is a good place to start for any amateur witch. Even if you don’t want to practice witchcraft, you’d still need something to help redirect your excess powers into.”

Donghyuck closes his fist around the mouth of the pouch, feeling the softness of the velvet against his palm. It’s then that he realizes that the air no longer feels suffocating. “Okay.”

Taehee looks taken aback for a moment, like she’d been expecting him to reject her gift. It’s gone as soon as it comes and she’s smiling at him again, sincerer than he’s seen this entire time. “If you have any more questions, you can always ask Taeyong to bring you again when you have the time.”

“I just—” the words catch in his throat. He thinks about Mark in his body waiting in the hallway just beyond the front door, about how they got into this mess in the first place, about the word  _soulmates_. “How can you be so sure? That we’re soulmates, I mean.”

Taehee looks at him funny for a split second. “If you’re still asking that, then are you sure you want to hear the answer?”

 _No, I'm not,_ he thinks. But then, “If it’ll help us get back to our own bodies, then yes.”

Taehee stares at him for a while, before speaking with a soft smile. “Unorchestrated body swaps take too much toll on us for it to happen to just any two souls. They only really happen between soulmates and families, because soul links and bloodlines make it easier for your energies to flow into each other’s physical bodies.” She’s still smiling, but something more somber washes over her expression as she continues, “Taeyong once accidentally switched bodies with his sister too, but even among family, it still took a great emotional toll on him. I’m not sure he remembers much of it, but it’s the reason why he swore off magic.”

“I didn’t mention this earlier because I didn’t think you'd need to know but—” she’s clearing away the tea cups, turning around to set them by the sink, the clinking of china against each other interspersed within her speech. “The potion isn't going to automatically bring you back to normal. It's there to make your connection more potent, more spiritually in sync. But if you have any… unresolved issues between you two, it can block your spiritual connection and prevent your souls from returning to their own bodies.”

Donghyuck remembers the static and the sting comes back as a phantom sensation ghosting along his arm. He freezes.

When she's done, she looks past Donghyuck, towards the direction of the front door, where the rest are waiting for him on the other side. “I suggest you go and resolve whatever those issues are yourself. Witchcraft can only do so much, after all.”

-

The fourth morning is less alarming. He’s starting to get used to seeing Mark’s face instead of his own in the mirror, or so he tells himself when he thinks about “resolving unaddressed issues” between him and Mark. He knows it’s ridiculous, but he’s managed to run away from this crossroad for long enough that even a lifetime spent in Mark’s body seems bearable in comparison.

He’s just finished downing his half of the potion in the bathroom when someone knocks on the door.

“Donghyuck-ah,” Mark’s voice filters through the bathroom door. “The hyungs asked the managers to give us a day off, so—”

Hyuck swings the door open abruptly and is instantly met with Mark’s signature confused expression superimposed over his own features. “I—” he opens his mouth to speak, and he can swear it’s at the tip of his tongue, teetering on the edge of it. He swallows the lump in his throat and forces the urge to speak back down with it.

“I wanna watch a movie.”

-

Mark is still complaining as they’re entering the theater and settling down into their seats. The theater is empty save for them and two families whose kids have decided to freely roam the premises. They’re late and the movie’s already 15 minutes in, and the popcorn tastes like stale cardboard sprinkled with salt and yet Donghyuck still can’t stop smiling like he’s won a lottery. Mark is looking at him funny, snorting when Donghyuck grins even wider at his reaction.

He's barely paying attention to the movie, watching the light from the silver screen play over the rises and dips of his features. It's something he's always done—try to unnerve Mark by paying too much attention to him at moments like this. It should be weird, watching his own face with so much intensity, but right now, all he feels is an overwhelming feeling of warmth bubbling in his gut, warmth that keeps him smiling until the sensation abruptly drops when everything suddenly clicks and realization dawns on him that it really was  _him_  who caused all this.

Donghyuck has always prided himself for being incredibly self-aware, especially for a seventeen year old idol who was thrown into the throes of the industry at 13. And he'll be the first to admit that he is—for the lack of a better term—greedy. It's something he's always known about himself, and something that's never been difficult for him to admit.

He's always thought he's had his own feelings sorted out, which is why his gut  _sinks_  from the mere revelation that it's taken his greed to manifest into some fucking soul switching spell for him to realize that he’s greedy about this—about Mark too.

 _You fucking moron,_  the Renjun in his head goes as he sinks into his seat and further from Mark's warmth.

-

They’re here again, huddled in one corner of an obscure whole in the wall eatery where they used to eat kimchijjigae as trainees. The ahjumma here knows them, remembers them from before the fame so they keep coming back even if sometimes she cooks her pork a little too salty.

Mark is sitting across him and slurping enthusiastically, kimchi sauce lining the corners of his lips. “You know, if you’re not gonna eat that, I’ll gladly have it,” He says, pointing at Hyuck’s untouched bowl and Donghyuck realizes he can’t bring himself to stop looking at the spot where the sauce pools at the corners of his mouth. There’s a heavy and ice cold sensation pooling in his gut and he decides he can’t do this. He stands up and bolts out of the store without looking back.

-

The city playground where Donghyuck's camped out in is just beyond the bushes behind the bus stop near the dorms. He's shivering and it's entirely his fault for forgetting his jacket at the eatery while bolting away, but he decides to blame it on Mark anyway. After all, if Mark had never existed, he wouldn't even have this problem in the first place.

Donghyuck's about to rise from his seat and run back to the dorms when he feels familiar fabric get dropped in his lap.

“Are you trying to get us stuck in each other’s bodies?” Mark says from his right, voice a little on edge from frustration, and Donghyuck curses himself for not leaving earlier. Mark's shirt is stained with sweat, white fabric drenched and clinging to his chest underneath his bomber jacket. Donghyuck almost feels guilty seeing his own body look spent.

“Maybe,” he replies. In truth, no, he’s not really and Mark probably knows that as well. But saying he’s trying to make Mark’s life miserable has always been easier than admitting that he’s just running away from confrontation.

“Can you just—” Mark sighs, haphazardly running his fingers through his already messy mop of hair. “Can you at least tell me what’s going on? So I can at least help?”

“You know, that’s always been the problem with you,” Donghyuck starts and it feels like a dam breaking. “You’ve always been too eager to do things. Eager to work, eager to please. Can’t you at least sense when something is out of your range?”

Mark looks at him incredulously, raises his voice so that it echoes through the empty park, “How the fuck will I know if it’s out of my range if I don’t even know what  _it_ is?”

"If you really want to know, then alright," Donghyuck says looking up at the black expanse of the starless Seoul city sky, the vastness of it making him feel like he's being swallowed up by it. He takes a deep breath before continuing, closing his eyes and letting the sensation envelope him. “The whole reason why this whole thing is happening—the soul swapping, the static—it’s all because I couldn't tell you that I wanted to see more of you. We're here because I ended up subconsciously wishing we’d somehow be forced to stick together.”

There’s a moment of silence and Donghyuck has never been more terrified. Mark is looking at him like he's grown a second head. “If you’d just told me that you wanted to spend more time with me, I would've made time.”

“That's exactly why I didn't tell you,” Donghyuck sighs. “I didn't want you to hang out with me as one of your countless obligations, didn't want you to do it just because I asked you to do so. No one wants to feel like their best friend is just hanging out with them because they have to, you know.”

Mark scoffs, “Have you even considered that maybe that’s what I wanted too, that maybe I was just waiting for you to ask? I know you think I'm a pushover, but did you really think I was just hanging out with you because you were making me?"

Donghyuck wants to retort, say that Mark’s never given any indication of interest in spending time with him, but he’s so, so tired so he settles for a snort.

There's a beat, like Mark's waiting for him to make the next move. Donghyuck remains still, watching him with wide eyes and Mark sighs. "Can you, for once in your life, just  _ask_  for something without being obnoxiously roundabout?”

It sounds like a challenge and it eggs Donghyuck on, who rises from the swing so that he's face to face with Mark. “Fine,” he snaps, looking directly into Mark's eyes. “I fucking like you, Mark Lee," He starts, and allows the last of his adrenaline to push him over the edge and just keep talking. "As in I want to kiss you senseless sometimes and it doesn't make sense to me why but I still do type of liking. And if you don't like me back, we can just forget this ever happened and go back to being best friends but if you do, then you better fucking kiss me n—”

It happens before Donghyuck can process that it’s happening, the first press of their lips shutting down his mental faculties instantly upon contact. Donghyuck can’t think of a single thing but the feeling of Mark’s lips against his own and the way Mark grabs a fistful of his shirt for purchase in response. He thinks he can take it - the soft press of their lips, he could probably take on its own - but Mark, shuddering, melting against him, because of him is a whole different story he’s far from ready to unpack.

Donghyuck can hear bus engines speed by in the background and it suddenly makes him hyper aware of their surroundings. He’s debating pulling away, breaking the kiss and laughing it off as one of his many jokes until Mark’s other hand finds its way onto his cheek and Mark parts his lips just slightly, and Donghyuck has to kiss back—slowly, carefully, allowing Mark to dictate the pace and string him along. He mindlessly wraps his arms around the other's neck to pull Mark impossibly closer, fingers combing through his already messy hair. The grip on his shirt slackens, fist relaxing into an open palm lightly pressed against Donghyuck’s chest and Donghyuck feels a shiver course through his entirety and he just  _knows_ that’s it.

When they pull away, he’s in his own body and is met with the vision of Mark biting down on his lower lip, trying to hide the slightest hint of a smile threatening to break through. He’s emitting specs of light like they’re his personal fireflies and Donghyuck can’t help but smile himself. It's midnight and he's freezing but Mark's hands clasped against his own are enough to keep him warm throughout the cold, cold night.

(When Donghyuck reads his cards that night, they reassure him that he's finally on the right path. Taehee may think that witchcraft can only do so much, but Donghyuck believes it’s all he really needed to get where he was always meant to be.)

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to leave concrit in the comments or in my [complaints desk/curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/yongsunnie)
> 
> if you liked this fic and have money to spare consider buying my caffeine-dependent working ass a coffee [here](http://ko-fi.com/fluxwire) thnx


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